


Captain Coughdrop

by Starlithorizon



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Douglas is a good friend, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-28 12:39:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/674493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starlithorizon/pseuds/Starlithorizon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin gets sick, and Douglas takes it upon himself to take care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Captain Coughdrop

**Author's Note:**

> What do I do when I get sick? Give it to fictional characters, obviously. Also, I wanted to play with Martin and Douglas's friendship a bit, and now I know that this is something I need more of.

Martin coughed again, for the tenth time in as many minutes. It wasn't a polite little cough, but one that fairly shook him with its violence. He insisted, in a voice made hoarse, that it was _perfectly_  airworthy, but perhaps it was better if Douglas took the takeoff and the landing. Douglas raised an eyebrow at that, but agreed without pestering the poor boy beyond a _Sir_.

Douglas made sure that Martin got tea instead of coffee. Martin spluttered as much as his cough would allow, but even he had to agree that it felt better on his raw throat.

By the time they returned to Fitton, Martin looked completely worn out. That wasn't surprising, considering the force with which the coughs rattled him, but it did mean that Douglas did most of the flying. Douglas wasn't bothered, but Martin certainly was.

With a sigh, Douglas told Martin to get into the Lexus.

"What, why?" Martin asked quickly, already looking to reject any efforts at care. Too bad for him, he wasn't just Douglas's captain, but he was also his _friend_. His extraordinarily stubborn friend who wouldn't take care of himself without someone nearby enforcing it.

"I'm taking you to the chemist and then home. Now, _in_."

Martin complied with eyebrows knotted.

"I'm really not that bad," Martin protested weakly when they were already halfway to the first stop. Douglas snorted.

"You were coughing so badly that you gave me control almost the entire time," he pointed out. "With your luck and the violence of that cough, you'll likely drive yourself into a ditch hacking up a lung."

That was one point that Martin really couldn't argue with.

But then Douglas didn't take the left turn at Birchdale Drive which would have marked the path to Parkside Terrace, and Martin found himself arguing all over again.

"You said the chemist then home!" Martin accused plaintively. This was true, and they had already been to stock up on medicine, which left only _home_. There had been no specification as to _whose_  home, however.

"I certainly did," Douglas allowed. Martin sighed, which triggered another coughing fit that left him slumped tiredly in the passenger seat.

By the time Douglas pulled into the drive of his own home, Martin was half asleep. Douglas allowed a teeny tiny fond smile to drift across his face before letting it settle into the smug grooves that had been carved with time.

"Wakey, wakey, Captain," Douglas crooned. "We're here. I'll take your flight bag, you take the one from the chemist. There's a lad."

It was really rather nice when Martin was too tired to argue or fluster or, you know, get all... _Martin-y._

Douglas led the kid into house and onto the sofa. He promptly draped an afghan over Martin's uniform and left him just long enough to heat up some soup and make a pot of tea.

The thing that people rarely got to know was that Douglas was really a nurturing creature. He hated being home alone with his thoughts, and without someone to care for that he actually _liked_. As his sick, poor, overly-stubborn friend, it was Martin's time to learn that Douglas not only liked taking care of people, but that he was good at it. Surprise!

Douglas spent the rest of the afternoon just making Martin comfortable. He hung up his uniform after pestering him about putting on his pyjamas, let him borrow a pair of luxurious wool socks with no holes to speak of, and even insisted he borrow his fluffy dressing gown. It fairly engulfed him, turning him into a snowball with _Excelsior Hotel_ on his chest.

They watched crap telly, ate soup, and played word games. Douglas made sure that Martin took the medicine he bought ("Pride be damned, you'll cough up your windpipe next if you keep this up!") and got him an extra blanket for the guest bedroom. He went to bed that night listening to the quiet sounds of a house made less lonely, smiling just a bit.

The next morning, Martin was obviously feeling better. He was still coughing, but not nearly as much.

"Are you ready for the trip?" Douglas asked, examining Martin critically. Martin gave a slightly sleepy smile in response.

 "Yeah, I think so. I— Thanks, Douglas. For...taking care of me. I n-needed it."

Ah, Captain Crieff, eloquent as ever. Douglas smiled, and this time, he let the fondness for his idiot friend show.

"Any time, Martin," he said. "Any time."


End file.
